


please don’t stop the music

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: Childhood friends to strangers to lovers, College AU, F/M, More music puns than is probably allowed, Pitch Perfect AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-05 22:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15872961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: “Acapella, like… the movie?”“Yeah the movie,” Gen replies with a roll of this eyes. “So, in or out? An answer now would be nice.”Lara Jean very much, definitely, absolutely, without a doubt, wants to say no. She’s not a singer. She’s never sang in public before. Hell she barely manages presentations in front of the class without throwing up or crying. But Chris is giving her those eyes, the desperate puppy kind, and Margot’s voice in her head is telling her to put herself out there and try something new. That she came to UVA to make friends, after all. That she can’t stay in her comfort zone forever.And so, “I’m not half-bad when I sing in the shower.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m blown away by all the positive feedback on my previous fic, guys! I’m used to writing for smaller fandoms so I really didn’t expect that many kudos and comments but they’re much appreciated!
> 
> Anyway, here’s what happens when you spend an entire car journey playing the Pitch Perfect soundtrack on repeat while being obsessed with Covinsky...

It goes a little like this:

  1. UNC just isn’t working for her. She can’t make any friends and her roommate is the worst. During the first meeting of the Korean Association, someone makes a offhanded comment about how she’s ‘only mixed-raced’ and it petrifies her so much that she refuses to get involved with the association after that. Her social life is as busy as her Friday nights were through high school. 
  2. Dad and Kitty alone at home, it’s just not working. Kitty calls her more than once asking how to fry eggs or cook pasta or something else very simple, and they eat delivery more often than not because Dad is too busy to go grocery shopping and Kitty can’t drive yet. 
  3. She has good enough grades for UVA and, although the paperwork is a nightmare, they accept her transfer after freshman year. It’s closer to home, and it has Josh, at the very least. She won’t be alone anymore. 



So it’s really simple, how it happens. Or perhaps ‘simple’ is not the word but, well, it does happen. And at this point it’s all that matters, because UNC was a dream that turned into a nightmare very quickly, all her expectations crashing and burning in front of her own eyes. 

Maybe UVA will be just as bad, for all she knows, but at least she will have her car on campus and will only be a twenty-minute drive away from her family. So, worst comes to worst, she can just go home during the weekends and drown her sorrows in homemade cookies in her own bedroom. Definitely an upgrade over drowning her sorrows in the middle of an empty food hall. 

Kitty and Margot help her move in her new room in her new dorm on her new campus a few days before classes start, and it very much feels like a fresh start. She got in touch with her roommate-to-be a few weeks ago, a no-bullshit girl called Chris who loves alternative music and trashy movies. They have about zero things in common, which is terrifying in itself, but they seem to be getting along so far. Chris made fun of her love of romantic books from the get-go, but not in a mean way. At least, Lara Jean doesn’t think it was a mean way. 

Chris is in the room when Lara Jean opens the door, a petite girl with long blonde hair and more eyeliner than is probably legal. She perks up, sitting a little straighter on her bed, and throws Lara Jean a sardonic grin. 

“Hey, beotch! Welcome to the shitshow!”

Kitty bursts into laughter, even more so at Margot’s offended look, and Lara Jean can’t help but giggle a little bit too. You’d think Margot would be used to it now, with all the wooh girls she meets in Scottish pubs, but no. Obviously no. 

“Hi,” Lara Jean answers, with a little wave even if she still holds her box with both hands. “Nice to meet you too.”

Chris offers some help and, with the addition pair of hands, Lara Jean’s boxes are in her room in no time. Which means parting with her sisters a lot faster than she had anticipated, and she isn’t all that ready for that quite yet. But she has to, and she tries to hide her tears for Kitty’s sake – even though both Kitty and she know she will be back home comes Saturday, but it’s the thought that counts. 

At least her room doesn’t feel that empty, and she doesn’t feel that lonely, once her sisters are gone. Chris makes sure of that by helping her unpack and going through all her stuff with can only describe as morbid curiosity. 

She makes a little more fun of Lara Jean’s books, just because, and cooes a lot over her clothes and sense of fashion, asking if there is any way they are the same shoe size so she can borrow her combat boots. Lara Jean doesn’t have much experience with girl friends but she has a lot of experience with sisters. And hanging out with Chris, it turns out, is a little bit like having Kitty around – definitely exhausting in the long run, but fun too. 

Once they’re done, posters and pictures on the walls, clothes in the closet, everything in its place, Chris takes it upon herself to show Lara Jean around. She leads her to the common room at the end of their corridor first, introducing her to people whose name Lara Jean forgets in an instant, then to the laundry room downstairs and all the mailboxes next to reception. They finish with the food hall, where Chris pays for both their lunches since Lara Jean doesn’t have her student ID yet. 

It’s all nice and preppy until someone comes to their table. Saccharine sweet smile and perfect hair – Lara Jean recognises an alpha girl when she sees one. Spent her entire school life avoiding girls like that, even. 

“Hey cuz,” Chris greets, voice flat as a pancake. 

The other girl’s smile grows larger. Deadlier. “You found us a new alto yet, Chris?”

Chris’s smile mirrors her cousin’s in an almost frightening way. “You found a new boyfriend yet?”

Gen’s smile drops immediately. “Peter and I haven’t broken up.”

“I don’t know, cuz…” Chris replies, picking a frie to chew on it slowly. “Sounds like… treble in paradise.”

Lara Jean wonders if they would notice if she was just to melt and be one with the floor. The tension between the two of them is so intense that Gen probably didn’t even notice she was here. Until she does. 

“Can you carry a note?” she asks Lara Jean brusquely. 

“Excuse me?”

“Can you harmonise? Hell, just sing okay at this point, we’re that desperate.”

To say Lara Jean has never been more confused in her life would be quite the understatement. She keeps looking between Gen – obviously expecting an answer – and Chris – obviously pissed at her cousin – without any kind of clue about what they’re talking about. Or why they’re asking about her vocal abilities. 

Thankfully, Chris takes pity on her a few seconds later, offering a much needed explanation. “We’re part of the Decibelles, one of the acapella groups on campus. Our alto graduated last year, along with a few others.”

“Basically we’re down five members,” Gen goes on. “But we can’t be present at the activities fair if we don’t have six official members, and we’re missing one.  Which means no exposition, no new members and no funding for competitions. So. Can you carry a tune, or not?”

Lara Jean quite literally gapes at her. She isn’t too sure how long it takes for her to come back to her senses. A while. “Acapella, like… the movie?”

She’s never been so good at pop culture references.

“Yeah the movie,” Gen replies with a roll of this eyes. “So, in or out? An answer now would be nice.”

Lara Jean very much, definitely, absolutely, without a doubt, wants to say no. She’s not a singer. She’s never sang in public before. Hell she barely manages presentations in front of the class without throwing up or crying. But Chris is giving her those eyes, the desperate puppy kind, and Margot’s voice in her head is telling her to put herself out there and try something new. That she came to UVA to make friends, after all. That she can’t stay in her comfort zone forever. 

And so, “I’m not half-bad when I sing in the shower,” she replies. 

Gen’s grin is downright victorious and evil, both at the same time, which is scary in any way you look at it. She couldn’t look more terrifying even if she was about to kill Lara Jean for a cannibal feast. 

“Good,” she says, too bright, too loud. “Rehearsal are Mondays, Wednesdays and Friday, and you obviously need to be with us at the activities fair tomorrow. Have a nice day!”

With the weight of what Lara Jean agreed to dropped on her so unceremoniously, Gen flips her hair above her shoulder and walks away. Lara Jean stares at the empty space where she was only seconds ago, immediately regretting that decision. It is not her to agree on things without thinking them through, and she is already dreading the following day. 

“It’s fun, actually,” Chris tries – and mostly fails – to reassure her. “I’m in charge of picking songs so Gen can’t force us to only sing Bruno Mars songs. You’ll see, the other girls are nice for the most part.”

It doesn’t help, not really, but at least Lara Jean is no longer freaking out. Just… silently terrified. 

They finish lunch quickly, Chris explaining everything there is to know about the Decibelles – surprisingly, a lot – before they part ways at the food hall’s exit. Chris wants to take a nap, but Lara Jean still needs to get her picture taken and her student ID printed out, so they agree to meet a little while later this afternoon. Which leaves her plenty of time to wander the campus grounds on her own and to quiet her mind a little bit. 

The queue for student IDs is unsurprisingly insane, and she spends about an hour making a dent in a book she downloaded on her phone as she waits for her turn. It’s mostly freshmen around her, obviously, and she doesn’t miss the awkward buzzing of being away from home for the first time, left to your own devices. She never did so good on her own, far from her family. She has no idea how Margot is not only surviving, but also thriving, so far away from home. Lara Jean would have died in a minute, in her shoes. 

Getting her picture taken takes about five seconds, and then she has to wait ten minutes for her ID card to be printed, for her meal plan and access to her building to be added to it, and for the woman behind the desk to make her sign a bunch of papers about what happens if she loses the card. She’s given a lanyard too, and then sent on her merry way. 

A good thing done, at least, even if her forehead looks too shiny on her ID picture, her eyeliner not very even and…

She bumps into someone the moment she steps outside, hard enough for her to almost lose her balance while a cry escapes her, halfway between surprise and pain. Her ID card falls to the ground and, in her and the stranger’s haste to pick it up, they bump foreheads. He laughs out loud. She sees stars. 

“Damn, woah, I’m so sorry! Are you okay…” Hr grabs her card and flips it over to read her name. “Lara Jean?”

It’s the way he says her name, less like he’s testing it and more incredulous, that has Lara Jean finally looking up. Too familiar eyes meet hers – brown and beautiful, with specks of gold around the edges and a mirth to them, eyes she hasn’t seen in more than a decade yet remembers so vividly – and she’s left gaping at him for a moment. 

He doesn’t look any better, frowning confusingly at her like he’s trying to place her face but can’t quite do it. It makes sense. They were only children the last time they saw each other. They both grew up quite a lot since, and puberty has been more than generous on him. Oh god, Peter K from primary is hot now, oh god. 

“Hi, Peter,” she greets him, before she remembers to stand up. 

He does too – taller than her now, shoulders way too broad for their own good – as a smile settles on his face. Damn it, he has a nice smile too, because of course he does. 

“Covey,” he grins, and her heart misses a beat. 

Peter K, her childhood neighbour, her first ever crush. The one she pined over for months after Dad sold the house – too many ghosts after Mom passed away, no enough room to mourn her – and they all moved away, never looking back. The first recipient of her love letters, carefully hidden in her hat box at home. Peter K, now tall, grinning and handsome. 

The Kitty in her head wheezes from too much laughing. 

She’s so screwed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I told you lately how much I love you all and your lovely feedback? Cause I do!

The following day, Lara Jean quite literally has to drag Chris out of bed so they are not late to the activities fair. Gen wants them to be at their stand two hours early, which is a bit much for what is only a glorified table and a bunch of flyers, if you want Lara Jean’s opinion. But of course Gen doesn’t want her opinion, so Lara Jean forces Chris to get up and get dressed, before her new friend zombies her way to the food hall and inhales more coffee than is probably healthy so early in the morning. 

“Not a morning person, huh?” Lara Jean teases her around a mouthful of pancake.

The food hall has waffles too, but it feels too much of a treat. At home it is, because taking out the waffle maker and cleaning it afterward is too much of a hassle for everyday-breakfast, and so Lara Jean doesn’t step away from habits drilled into her since childhood. 

Chris points at her own face, not without difficulty. “Not even a person at that point,” she replies in a grumble, before she takes another cup of coffee. She’s having a grand total of one chocolate cookie with that, and Lara Jean has no idea how she’ll survive until lunch.

She will probably have to start sneaking energy bars in her new friend’s pockets, just in case. But for now she settles on enjoying her breakfast and, as Chris is otherwise preoccupied, on checking her Instagram account. Margot posted stories when she was asleep, she and her boyfriend Ravi going out to some welcome-back party in Scotland, followed a few hours later by the picture of a single cup of tea and a gif of a sleepy cat. Kitty had a sleepover at a friend’s, and binged Games of Thrones, which isn’t worrying at all. Josh just arrived on campus; Lara Jean tries not to think about it too much.

And p_kavinsky is now following her.

She elects to ignore that, too.

By some kind of miracle, Chris find it in her to down two more expressos, which isn’t all that smart but manages to make her look a little more alive. And a lot more fidgety. Lara Jean has to steer her clear from the coffee machine, not to make matter worth. She has no idea how they make it to the grounds and the activities fair, but somehow they do. Another one of those miracles, without a doubt.

Gen is, quite obviously, already there and their stand is, quite obviously, just as sad as Lara Jean imagined it would be. Gen is piling up flyers on their table, and some kind of banderole is still rolled up at their feet. With more than a few hours notice, Lara Jean could have baked cupcakes or brownies to lull people into talking to them and taking an interest in the acapella group. But, as it is, she just teams up with Chris to put the banderole up, then to stick some pictures from past concerts and events under it. Gen has her laptop opened now, showing videos of different songs the group has been performing in the past.

Lara Jean has to admit it looks more legit than she thought at first and so, when they’re done, she snaps a picture of the stand and sends it to Margot. To show her sister she’s putting herself up there and trying new things, instead of just hiding behind her blankets with a book. If Margot’s replying message of three thumbs up is anything to go by, she made the right choice.

Morning is a bit slow, probably because people are still moving in and finding their bearings. A girl called Allie, with beautiful brown skin and long hair, joins them soon enough, and then Emily (Gen’s friend, as lovely as she is) and Pammy, whose face has so many freckles Lara Jean finds herself staring a little.

Chris introduces her to both Allie and Pammy, while the other two girls stand to the side and ignore them. It’s fine with Lara Jean, really, and soon the four of them find themselves playing a ruthless game of blind test with Allie’s phone. Chris is better at this than could be expected in her state, faster than all the other girls combined and proud in each of their wins. They switch to a party of Heads Up! When she proves unbeatable, until Pammy decides to spice it up a little bit, with a song association game. Give one word, find a song with that world as quickly as possible.

They are mostly messing around and having fun, but their singing actually turn heads once people start trickling by. Some even stop by, getting the force of Gen’s speech the moment they seem more interested than curious. A couple of girls even take a flyer, nodding and smiling, but Lara Jean is too busy having fun with her new friends to really notice how popular their stand really is.

“Popsicle!” Allie throws in their next round.

The song pops into Lara Jean’s mind immediately -- too many months of Margot obsessed with musicals, all types of musicals, for her not to know that one. Still, she hesitates. The song is powerful, more powerful than her voice can probably managed. She bites down on her lip, anxious, until Chris nudges her leg with the tip of her combat boot.

She raises her eyebrows at Lara Jean, teasing and challenging all at once.

Lara Jean straightens her back even as she takes a deep breath. “Dearest, darlingest Momsie and Popsicle,” she starts, her voice more confident than she feels.

Chris swallows back a grin, her voice flat. “My dear father.”

“There’s been some confusion over rooming here at Shiz,” they go on at the same time, managing to harmonise rather nicely despite never having done so before. 

Chris seems impressed too, even if her voice turns into a small laugh as Lara Jean quickly grabs her phone and looks up the lyrics. She might know the song but -- she’s not entirely well-versed in all the lyrics, so a bit of help is always nice. They go through the lines easily -- too easily, perhaps.

“ There's been some confusion, for you see, my roomate is…”

Lara Jean rolls her eyes theatrically as she adds, in a voice that is not entirely hers, more high-pitched than she really is comfortable, “ Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe…”

“Blonde,” Chris states in a deadpan voice, swatting Lara Jean’s hair in the process.

They both laugh a little, which makes for a shaky few lines. Not that it matters much, when they’re having so much fun. It’s not really about the quality of their voices, more about this moment they are sharing, Chris looking at the lyrics above her shoulder and grinning like a madwoman, Lara Jean forgetting about her fear of the spotlight.

People do stop and stare, and listen. She can feel their eyes on her even as she jumps into the chorus with Chris, and to her feet. Chris grabs her hand even as she sings about how much she loathes Lara Jean, and the effect is lost on how much the both of them are giggling.

Allie and Pammy provide the background singing for them, Pammy now having her phone opened on the lyrics too. Even Gen has stopped talking to look at them -- Lara Jean chances a glance her way, and the blonde’s eyes are unreadable. Like she is puzzled, upset at them stealing the attention away from her, and delightfully surprised all at once.

“What is this feeling, so sudden and new? I felt the moment I led my eyes on you…”

A crowd has gathered around them now. Lara Jean’s heart is racing. Adrenaline. Fear. Unadulterated joy. She grins, and laughs, and sings. Damn, does she sings.

“Truly, deeply loathing, my whole life long!”

Chris gets into her face to scream a ‘Boo!’ and Lara Jean’s answering shriek of fake surprise is swallowed by the applause around them. One boy is whistling. Gen is already yelling about whoever might be interested to join their group. Emily shoves flyers into people’s face.

And there, behind the crowd, is Peter staring right at Lara Jean. Even with Chris’ arm thrown around her shoulders, the both of them laughing together, Lara Jean feels his eyes on her and turns her head toward him. Her laugh dies on her tongue when he smiles at her -- that full-face smile, with the scrunching nose and everything -- and holds his can of coke up as a silent toast.

Chris notices, because of course she does, her eyes travelling between Lara Jean and Peter before the slightest of frowns settles between her brows. “You know Peter?” she asks, her voice soft enough for the alarm bells in Lara Jean’s head to start chiming.

“Yeah, he’s an old friend. How do you know him?”

Chris evens her with A Look, capital letters and all. “He’s Gen’s Peter,” is all she needs to say for a stone to drop in Lara Jean’s stomac, right at the bottom. “I mean, he  _ was _ Gen’s, they broke up, but...”

She remembers yesterday’s awkward conversation with Gen, the certainty in her voice when she declares than her boyfriend and she were still together. “He still belongs to her,” Lara Jean finishes for her friend, though she has no idea why she’s disappointed.

It’s not as if she wanted to date Peter, or anything. Sure, reuniting with him after all those years yesterday was nice, and they had a pleasant chat after the initial accident was put behind. He even made her laugh once or twice, and grinned every time she stifled a giggle behind her hand. And it was nice, getting to know Peter K again. Nice, but different. Unexpected.

Lara Jean hadn’t thought past meeting with him once in a while, to grab coffee and chat. But it seems her subconscious had other ideas, now crushed under the heel of Gen’s ugly Uggs. It’s okay, though. She had a crush on him once, and she got over him. It won’t be hard to do the same again now, especially since it’s barely even a crush. Just… an interest.

“It’s fine,” she says out loud. To Chris or to herself, she doesn’t know. “He’s not my type anyway.”

Chris’ laugh is sarcastic at best. And loud, too loud. “Excuse me? Dude, I’m a lesbian but even  _ I _ find him cute. Like, come on…”

Lara Jean purses her lips and shakes her head, a little too manically, until Chris drops it. She unwraps her arm from around Lara Jean’s shoulders to take a few steps back. She doesn’t say anything, but she points two fingers at her eyes, then at Lara Jean’s, then at hers again. Lara Jean rolls her eyes, but smiles.

“Yeah, sure,” Chris comments. “Okay, come, let’s steal some food from the queer club, I’m starving.”

Lara Jean follows, not without one last glance above her shoulder.

Peter is long gone.


	3. Chapter 3

There is something almost comforting about classes starting, even though Lara Jean has to get acquainted with a whole new set of professors and fellow students. But there is something to be said about waking up every morning with a purpose, and keeping her mind busy with lectures, readings and homework. Chris thinks her crazy for how organised she is – from her pastel highlighters to her neat notes to her pretty schedule above her desk –, not that Lara Jean pays her mind. They might get along, but it soon becomes clear Chris and she have opposite views on their academic performances. Which is fine with Lara Jean, really. Nobody can be at the top, that’s why it’s the top. 

At least she gets one week free of acapella before auditions are held, and so one week away from Gen’s deadly stares. The girl doesn’t scare her, not really, still Lara Jean is careful. Even more so since Chris dropped the Peter bomb on her. 

She hasn’t seen him around since the activities fair, which obviously means that he’s right there in the food hall on Wednesday when she gets her breakfast before her 9am econ class. She toys with the idea of running away for a second, but then he’s raising his head from his plate, his eyes meeting hers, all surprised glee and boyish smiles, and she knows she’s done for. 

She piles more pancakes that is probably healthy on a plate, pours herself a cup of tea, and goes to pay. All in slow motions. All to push down the inevitability of having to sit next to Peter Kavinsky. 

“Hey, Covey,” he greets her when she finally plops down in the chair opposite his. “Bright and early?”

She steals some time by sipping on her burning hot cup of tea, and it only makes him grin more. Idiot. “You’re one to talk,” she manages to reply after a while, nodding to his still damp hair and flushed skin. 

He obviously already took a shower, while she’s still in her pyjamas. They’re on two very different levels of early-birdness right now. 

Peter only shrugs. “Morning training has me up at 6 every morning.”

She lowers her cup, eyes a little wild. “What.” 

Everyone and their mother told her it was madness to take a 9am class and that she soon would regret it. Lara Jean always replies that she likes waking up at the same time every morning, as part of her routine, so it really is not a problem. She would be awake anyway, so might as well be productive about it. 

But six am? Every morning? That is madness, indeed. 

Peter simply shrugs with one shoulder, before he shoves another spoonful of cereals in his mouth. “The gym is always empty this early in the morning.”

“I wonder why,” she replies. 

He only grins for a moment, head tilted to the side like a curious puppy. There is something too soft about his features, and his eyes, and his smile. Lara Jean has to look away. 

“Well yeah, that’s the point. Nobody to steal the treadmill from me or to judge me when I’m lifting weights.”

“But why?” she wonders out loud. Why would he put himself through such a drastic regimen every morning, when he could just sleep in and probably still looks just as good. She doesn’t say that out loud, though. 

“I’m part of the Lacrosse team,” he explains. “Scholarship.”

Her mouth opens in a small ‘oh’ of surprise as understanding dawns on her. She has vague souvenirs of Peter playing Youth Lacrosse when they were in primary, jokingly calling it 3L – Little League Lacrosse. It makes sense that he would keep with it in high school; Peter has always been an outdoor kind of boy, when she was just fine reading inside. The neighbours’ tree house had been a happy in-between for the two of them. 

“So you’re a masochist,” she comments. 

Peter presses a hand to his hand, faux offended expression on his face. “Damn, Covey. Since when are you so savage?”

She’s the one to grin this time, hiding her giggle in a sip of her tea. It reminds her of primary school all over again, of the recess time spent playing games together and the play-dates watching Harry Potter and Disney movies and running around her garden, yelling like animals. It was a simpler time then, without having to worry about her father and Kitty, or helping Margot with chores, or writing down meal plans for the week. A time when all three Covey girls were just that – girls, who knew nothing of heartbreak or maturing too soon.

It’s always been easy, with Peter. He was her first friend, from the very first day of school, sitting next to her and telling her how he liked her little combat boots. She wasn’t used to be friends with boys then – it was Margot and her, for the most part, and she was fine with it – but Peter made it easy. Comfortable. Fun.

And he still does, telling her about his Lacrosse career and his daily training sessions every evening with the team, and how all the other dudes are so much more buffier than him. Hence the extra training in the morning, to keep up with them. In return, she tells him about Margot in Scotland, and Kitty being such a little feminist warrior, and how she loves to bake whenever she can. Which isn’t all that easy when she’s sharing nothing more than a kettle and a microwave with an entire floor of college students.

“I remember you mom used to make those little Korean pastries,” he says, using both his hands to mimic a round shape. “With like, red bean stuff or something.”

“Hwangnam bread,” she replies, and hopes he doesn’t notice how her whole body went tense for a second there, a little startle of surprise at how casual he brought her into the conversation.

But of course, it’s Peter, and he notices. Eyes a little sad, shoulders slouching ever so slightly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“It’s fine,” she cuts him off with a wave of her hand. And, truly, it is, in some weird, probably inexplicable way. The hurt will always been there, at the back of her mind, but. It’s less painful now, dulled with time. “I’m just not used to people talking about her so casually.”

Usually, people are very good at toying around the subject. They’re not very good at being casual about it, though. Too many teachers being so awkward around them when it was time to make a Mother’s Day present, so many people apologizing too many times about it like it was somehow their fault. And dad, who’s so good at just keeping it all in to the point where Kitty once asked her if he didn’t love mom anymore. It’d broken Lara Jean’s heart so much she’d cried herself to sleep that night, unable to explain that dad does that because he still loves mom so damn much it hurts.

“Well, her pastries were great. And she was, too.” A pause. Then, “dad left us like, a year after you guys moved out. Got himself a new wife and a new house and a new family. They even got a dog and shit.”

Lara Jean’s mouth opens but, for a few moments, no word come out. She has no idea what to answer that isn’t the damn hollow apologies she hates so much. So instead she says, “Oh Peter…” and her voice goes lower, softer.

“It’s fine, really,” he replies, even though his tone makes it everything but. “It’s just, I know what it feels like. People being weird at you trying to act like the situation is normal even if it isn’t.”

Lara Jean remains silent for a while, her pancakes abandoned in favour of staring down at her hands in her lap. She doesn’t have many memories of Peter’s parents or family life, only that his mom runned the local antiques store that Lara Jean loved so much as a child. There was this one necklace she always admired, and Mrs Kavinsky even let her try it on for a little while once. But, beside that, Lara Jean can’t remember anything. Can’t remember if the Kavinskys looked happy or not.

When she still doesn’t speak up, Peter simply adds, “Well, that was deep,” and it makes her laugh out loud, a little nervous and breathless. He’s grinning again when she looks up at him, eyes crinkling and dimples in his cheeks, and she finds herself blushing for no reason. She coughs, then shoves some more pancakes in her mouth.

Chewing and swallowing, she decides it’s time to move on to things that are a little lighter and less awful. “Owen must be so grown up now.”

Peter groans, head tilting back. “He’s driving mom fucking crazy, doing nothing of his days beside playing Fortnite and watching videos of like, David Dobrik.” He shakes his head, like he him can’t believe it. “She keeps wishing he took after me and was outside all the time.”

“We can’t all be kind of the lunch hall,” she comments as an educated guess. Something funny twists in her stomach when Peter is the one to blush. Maybe not such a guess after all. “Too bad they live far away from each other, Kitty could force him to go outside once in a while.”

“Oh I remember the little monster,” Peter grins. 

Kitty was barely more than a baby when he last saw her, running around the house and screams like a banshee. Nothing much has changed on that subject, comes to think about it. Lara Jean wonders how long it took her this time, to hack the TV’s parental control and gain access to HBO all over again. Two days? Three at most? Damn, but Lara Jean misses her already.

She thinks of sending her baby sister a quick good morning text, and so grabs her phone from her pocket, only to notice what time it is. Her class starts in half an hour, and she still needs to shower and get ready.

“Shoot,” she softly curse, which of course makes Peter laugh. “I have to get ready for classes.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me go back up with you.”

Which is how Lara Jean learns that he lives on the fourth floor, while she and Chris are on the third one. Not so far from each other, especially since they can hang out in whichever floor’s common room if they feel like it. Which, Lara Jean doesn’t want to sound presumptuous, but maybe they do.

(She refuses to think of Gen right now.)

Peter holds the elevator’s door open as she gets off and turns toward him, fishing for her door card in the pocket of her cardigan but not moving down the corridor. Like she wants to enjoy any spare second with him she can get.

“That was nice,” she comments.

“It was,” he agrees. “Guess I’ll see you on Saturday, then?”

“What?”

“The party after the audition?” When Lara Jean doesn’t react, only offers him a blank face, he explains, “I’m part of the Ransom Notes. So I’ll see you at the acapella party.”

The elevator’s doors close on his wink.

Chris has a lot of explaining to do.


End file.
